


Ride

by ElvenMaia



Series: Inkwell [11]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bruises, Epic Fail, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mud, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenMaia/pseuds/ElvenMaia
Summary: Young Estel is visiting the Greenwood with an emissary from Imladris. Intrigued by the great elk steeds, he attempts to ride one. Alone. In the middle of the night. Unfortunately for his bones he picks the smallest one and learns that smallest always means greenest.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf
Series: Inkwell [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528916
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Ride

**_~Inkwell Series~_ **

Ride

“What on _Arda_ are you doing, Estel?”

Estel groaned and rolled over to his side from where he had his face pressed into the mud. Grass poked out of his tousled hair and his face was nearly black with the wet clay.

He blinked bright flashing stars from his vision, squinting into the fair face, the full moon back-lighting wispy golden locks.

Oh dear. It seemed that his escapade had been discovered. By Legolas no less. He groaned inwardly. No way could he be revealed.

It was the expectancy on the elf’s face glowering from above that prompted him to remember that he had been asked a question.

Much to his horror, instead of a coherent answer, his follow-up question came out as a muffled grunt.

“Whaddyasayd?”

A pair of sleek brows rose.

“I said, what do you think you’re doing out here, _adan_?”

Estel twisted his lips into a pout and rolled back onto his stomach, pressing an urgent finger to his lips.

“Estel—“

“Shhhh!”

Legolas dropped his hands from where they had been resting admonishingly on his hips and waved one around in a helpless gesture.

“At least let me—“

“ _Shhhhhhh_!”

“Can we please—“

“ _SHHH_!”

Biting his lip to hide a mirthful wobble of his lips, Legolas crouched down next to him, wrinkling his nose at the human’s filthy appearance.

Leaning down to his ear, the elf whispered, “May I ask what you’re doing?”

A woeful collection of beats of silence were filled with a chorus of cicadas making a cheerful intervention.

“...I’m... hunting...”

The brows rose again. Somehow he could still see them in the sparse moonlight. “Hunting?” the elf repeated blandly. “Without a bow? What exactly are you hunting _for_?”

“... Rabbit.”

“Rabbit,” the same bland voice dead-panned.

Estel nodded fervently to punctuate his point. “Quiet, I can hear them burrowing.”

Legolas nodded, biting his cheek in disbelief as the human turned back to ‘listen to the ground’. He knew it was not at all what had occurred, and had a very strong urge to laugh, but refrained from doing so.

But he could not help this comment,

“So are you hunting a rabbit to try to mount it as a steed _as well_ or...”

Silver eyes glowing starkly against the black mud on the _adan’s_ face flickered dangerously over to him.

“You _saw_?” he croaked.

This time, the elf simply could not help himself. He threw back his head and doubled over laughing, as a very disgruntled and dirty Estel picked himself out of the wet, squishy clay. He winced at every ringing peal of laughter from his friend. Oh yes, he had surely seen poor Estel’s miserable tumble.

Legolas bit down his laughter long enough to speak, “Are you referring to the time that you nearly had your kneecap bitten off, or the part you flipped forward over the buck’s antlers when he reared forward?”

 _This elf has seen too much_ , Estel decided solemnly. Revenge was surely in order. He picked up a clammy hand, dripping with the wetness of the black mud, and with a smug grin proceeded to generously lather the wretched elf’s sparkling hair with a healthy dose of what he liked to call ‘homemade humility.’ Fresh out of ‘ _Dunédain’s Mercantile of Remedies_ ’, owned by Estel himself.

And _boy;_ bruised, aching, and with a steadily bleeding pride the balking buck had left him with, Estel couldn’t help but relish in every streak of black he painted over his horrified companion. _This makes for a fine remedy to his Highness’s Royal Princeling-ish impeccable hide,_ the _adan_ thought with a burst of joviality.

Of course, this certain incident that followed Estel’s midnight ride—if that is what it was going to be called—had surely not prevented Legolas from bringing up the topic with a sardonic grin and sly glint in his eyes on several later occasions when he said,

“Perhaps that is a steed too _green_ for you, my friend.”

In which Estel would promptly reply with a twinkle in his eye, “Perhaps a green steed does not befit me, but your very _black_ Rochwen surely beseeches upon _you_ , you insufferable Silvan!”

oOoOoOo

Rochwen— Legolas’ black mare, apparently.

 **A/N** : Yet another result of sleepless hours that were not idle :P. It seems I can either write hard angst or pure fluff in such unholy hours of the morning xD.

**Thank you once again to my wonderful beta, Scribbles-on-Parchment!**


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